


The Calico

by King_City_Witch



Category: Original Work, Short Story - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-12
Updated: 2018-06-12
Packaged: 2019-05-21 12:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14915720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/King_City_Witch/pseuds/King_City_Witch
Summary: Short story I wrote years ago.They say when a cat lays in your mat, expect company.





	The Calico

**Author's Note:**

> Once posted on Fiction Press under the named Kissed Evident - Date Escapee. I no longer have access to that account but that was me.

Priscilla sat upon her old whicker rocking chair, sewing with withered hands as she embroidered a simple pattern. She could have stitched anything once, no matter how small the stitches had to be or how long it took. Now age brought infirmities and her sewing showed it.

"What happened to age brings wisdom, eh Sebastian?" She cooed, eyes squinting behind her reading glasses for her calico kitten. The small feline appeared on her porch one day, shivering in a brisk fall wind and mewing piteously. Sebastian had been her first choice as the kitten's name, for the son she never bore. Even when one of her girls, Janet the second oldest and a caretaker at a zoo, pointed out Sebastian was more of a Susanna. Sebastian was Sebastian, her sixth child if only by adoption.

Five girls, women with families of their own and happy careers. Even the youngest, flighty as she had been in her youth held a steady job and a serious fiancé. Finally that child had settled down, finally became serious and earned good money as a designer on those new computers. Even if it really was all Annabelle did all through high school instead of learning and studying like she should. That portrait of Sebastian sunning himself on the porch was marvelous though, and was exactly the thing she did every sunny after noon.

"Sebastian? Here kitty. Let's have some lunch, eh? Nice bowl of milk just for you." Priscilla shuffled on aching knees and ankles to the kitchen. She had to open the refrigerator, new and a shiny metallic silver from her eldest Catherine, with two hands. At least the age had come slowly almost to the point of being unnoticeable until the last years. Ninety seven with five children, a husband gone for five years and the Lady's Guild presidency until last month. A shame her arthritis was as bad as it was…

Priscilla patted the top of her head where her tightly pulled iron gray bun rested, trying to remember what she had opened the refrigerator for. A soft mew startled her and as she gazed into the golden eyes of Sebastian she remembered.

"Oh ho, yes! You're milk, my little baby." Priscilla chuckled at herself, lifting the gallon jug and sliding it onto the kitchen table. So many times she had washed that table after her girls had colored with markers, crayons and pencils. So many times she'd wiped up spilt milk and juice. So many, many nights telling each girl in turn stories of her own youth to help them through troubles, fears and the pain of heartbreak. Oh so long, and oh so many.

Another mew tugged her from her thoughts to the task of lunch. She opened the plastic jug and lifted it cautiously to the cat's bowl beside the cupboard. Bending slowly she managed to fill the little plastic dish, then even slower she managed to rise again. The refrigerator still ajar, Priscilla replaced the milk, which she never drank due to her stomach refusing almost every tidbit of anything dairy, and shuffled through plastic containers for lunch. Settling on mixed vegetables and dry chicken she set it upon the table and hunted down a clean fork and knife.

"Never mind that dratted microwave. Honestly, Sebastian, why would I want to fumble with so many buttons when the food is just as good cold?" The cat cleaned her face with a well licked paw, purring in contentment. Sebastian rubbed languidly against the side of the counter, slinking forward with cat like grace to her mistress. When Priscilla sat fully in her wooden chair with the blue checkered cushion, the calico pounced onto her lap and sat staring up into her owner's fading green. "What? You've had your milk kitty, don't come to me for more."

Sebastian purred, nuzzling her owner's stomach. The little one year old could handle cat food soon, never mind the little fangs resting behind the whiskers. Only when Priscilla rubbed her ears Sebastian stilled and enjoyed the feel of well-worn hands.

"Alright my little baby, scoot so I can eat, hmm?" Priscilla spoke low, tired suddenly. Christina would call soon though, for advice on her infant daughter and to chide her mother if she was not eating. Ninety seven and treated as if she were two by the second youngest! Priscilla watched Sebastian trot out of the kitchen, most likely back to the porch to sun and bathe. She returned her gaze to the Tupperware meal, picking at it and eating a few morsels. The phone rang and glad for the distraction from the food she did not want Priscilla shuffled over to the receiver hooked into the wall.

"Hello? Oh, Christina how are you, dear? How's Jessica? Is she feeding alright? Good, good. No. No I don't think chewing on her clothes is a problem. Janet, oh was it Janet?" Priscilla paused, tapping her foot against the floor.

"No, no it was Annabelle. Annabelle did the same and nothing has ever been wrong with that child except her flightiness. Yes, yes I was just sitting down to eat." She glanced at the food, nose wrinkling in distaste. She was so fussy now a days. "No! I want to talk to you. I'm really not feeling all too well anyways. Ah, tired. All those years of dealing with you girls ran me ragged. I deserve to be tired now. Does she? That's to be expected, babies are curious."

"I remember… Janet, definitely Janet, would do anything to get anywhere new. When she learned to walk! No place was safe, and certainly it scared me when she learned to open doors. That girl can't stand having a roof over head!" Priscilla yawned them, loud and deep as she struggled to contain it. "Well yes, I suppose I should. I told you I was tired. Yes, my dear. I will right now. Maybe my stomach will be back after a nap. All right. Yes. Mmhm. Alright, now you tell that dratted son-in-law of mine to help you. If he doesn't I'll whack him one right in the kisser! Alright, have a nice day dear. Love you too."

Priscilla shuffled to the front door and twisted the lock open. She poked her head out to see Sebastian with her stomach in the air on the welcome mat. When the kitten realized her mistress was peering at her, smiling and shaking her head wryly, Sebastian leapt up and began licking her sides clean.

"Oh yes, you sneaky little thing! You were busy all along!" She closed the door and retreated past the dining room on her left and closet on right, past the door to the kitchen and open living room down the short hall to her own room. It was past the girls' bathroom, oh how they had warred over it every morning! And to the right of her room the spare room Gregory -her late husband- used as a work room and the three rooms the girls had once split among themselves as they had seen fit. She entered the walk in closet parallel to the sink and long mirror, pulling pajamas from their nook on the shelves Gregory had installed.

"Pajamas! In the middle of the day!" Priscilla chided herself. "Old gal you can't be so lazy! Ninety seven years you've done well enough, you can just take of your shoes and nap in clothes."

She loosened the bun, removing the myriad of bobby pins until a memory of doing her girls' hair came to her. She'd placed Samantha's hair in a bun for a ballet recital. Little Samantha, the middle child, had been shaking so hard, unable to keep still and calm. She'd joked about anything she could, then called the bobby-pins betty-pins. What boy uses hairpins? I don't see a single boy with long hair in a bun. I'd better not see any longhaired boys either, young lady. The entire time she'd smiled, leaning over Samantha's shoulder with the half serious warning. Oh, had the little ballerina laughed then!

Priscilla finally came to her senses, staring at herself in the mirror.

"Old gal you really are becoming a space cadet." Half her bun was still up and falling as she again began to pile the pins, the betty-pins she mused, into their little paper box. That done she brushed her hair out and sleepily shuffled to bed. The bedspread of faded white linen was pulled back to reveal the freshly laundered blue sheets used to make the bed that morning. Priscilla crawled in, fondly stoking her husbands old pillow. Five years, nearly six she had missed him. Even knowing he was in heaven, even knowing he had loved her to the end there was no denying she missed him and wanted him back.

"I guess being a tough old lady has a drawback of being around too long." She mused, and then scowled. Wishing for death would get her nowhere. Prayers. Prayers to focus on.

"Hail Mary full of grace, the Lord is with thee." The words were burned into her memory, she recited them drowsily, barely aware the words came from her mouth. "Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen."

Sleepiness drugged her down, but habit ingrained wouldn't let her sleep, not without her prayers said.

"Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven…Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us and lead us not…into temptation…but…deliver us…from evil. Amen." The yawn she had fought escaped, pulling a rush of air to her sleep clouded mind. "One more…Glory be to the Father, to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost. As it was in the Beginning, it is now…and forever shall be…world without…end."

She was sleeping softly, completely unaware as dreams washed everything away and a calico cat sat licking its paw on the doorstep.

Father Brandon stepped onto the porch of Priscilla Bianchi's home. The wood was worn and pale blue; nearly gray tinted, paint beginning to peel. He spied Sebastian, Priscilla's favorite topic when she frequented church, eyeing him from behind a potted plant. He smiled at the cat, and then turned back to the door. Priscilla had not been in church that morning, and no one had been able to reach her. He rang the bell, waiting patiently and knowing her arthritis was worsening slowly and understanding the feeling – his own mother, fifty years old, suffered the same. After a long moment she didn't answer, so he rang again, accentuating it with a quick rap with the knocker. Another moment passed with a small noise coming from inside the house.

"Mrs. Bianchi? It's Father Brandon. Are you alright?"

The door creaked open, revealing a smiling and wrinkled face adorned with green eyes and topped with an iron dray bun pulled tight as a ballerina's. "Oh, hello Father! I'm sorry I missed mass, didn't I?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Some of the women from the Guild expressed some concern, so I volunteered to check-up on you." The father smiled, extending a hand to grasp gently as Priscilla's and leaned in towards her. "You are alright, aren't you?"

"Oh yes. I slept since noon yesterday. I must have been so tired." She sighed. "Won't you come in and have something to drink? My second youngest, Christina, she brings the grandchildren every Sunday and I have plenty of chocolate chip and oatmeal cookies."

"Always the doting grandmother." Father Brandon teased.

"Of course. I'll be babysitting for a few more years yet!"


End file.
